


Morning Routine

by AdikaOfMandalore



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Clan of two, Father-Son Relationship, Morning Routine, mando and baby yoda being cute, mando and baby yoda being father and son, really short really cute and adorable one shot, requested on tumblr, sleeping routine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdikaOfMandalore/pseuds/AdikaOfMandalore
Summary: From the request: “Would you be able to write something kind of about Mando and Baby Yoda's morning routine? Like Baby wakes up first and just gets up to shenanigans to wake up his papa.”I'm honestly so soft for this request.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 135





	Morning Routine

**Author's Note:**

> This short One Shot was requested on Tumblr.  
> If you have requests for OS/Drabbles/Headcanons/Etc., you can find me on Tumblr (@AdikaOfMandalore) and ask as many as you want.

The Razor Crest was not meant as a living-in cruise vessel and it was clearly not designed to host someone permanently. In fact, the Crest didn't even have proper sleeping quarters – or an equipped kitchenette... or an actual refresher, for that matter. Not that Mando minded.

Well, most of the time.

The former military craft was small, narrow and claustrophobic in some areas, but it had enough – more than enough – spare space for a lonely bounty hunter with no social affiliations whatsoever and no crew members to share his travels across the galaxy with.

The gunship was old, _very_ old, cranky and rather loud in the infinite void between the constellations, all sharp angles, metallic crates and dim, cold air – the heating system broke down Maker knows when.

Again, Mando didn't really mind.

Well, until the Child came along, turning his routine upside down, taking his sleeping cot... and sending the poor man to spend his night cycles on the harsh ground of the cargo hold – when he didn't actually fell asleep on the worn out and not-so-cozy pilot seat up on the cockpit.

As crazy as it might sound, stretching out on the metal floor was way more comfortable than the stiff, sitting position he had to keep when napping on that Maker-forsaken seat. Because, that's what it all was at the end; short naps, never a proper eight hours sleeping schedule.

Sometimes, the beskar-clad man would even go _days_ without resting at all, pushing mind and body to the limit, until he literally shut down and collapsed with his armour still on. And then, _and only then_ , he'd sleep for more than half an hour at time.

_Kind of what happened in this case._

After a job nearly gone south, where two brutes literally beat the kriff out of him before he could, eventually, turn the situation to his advantage and defeat them, he had to limp back to the Crest – dragging along the two bounties bodies all by himself –, tend to his new wounds as best as he could – not saying much – and _then_ think about the well being of his foundling.

That means playing tiredly with him, cleaning him – or trying to, because, apparently, his _ad'ika_ didn't want to hear _anything_ about taking a bath, that night – and cook something warm and tasty enough so that the little one would eat it without making much of a fuss.

And _then_ , waiting for him to fell asleep and – _finally!_ – take off his helmet to consume the cold leftovers rather hastily, the Child still sound asleep on his lap. He drank a large gulp of recycled water and put the beskar headgear back on with a loud sigh, wanting nothing more than to be done with that tedious day.

Mando eventually made to get up and tuck the toddler in his sleeping cot, but when he cooed sleepily and half-opened his huge, brown orbs, the exhausted bounty hunter froze and opted on sleeping on the floor yet again, using his chest as a pillow for his adoptive son. He really didn't have the strength to lull him to sleep all over again.

«Wait... hold on» Mando mumbled under his breath, voice creaking for the long disuse, holding him with one hand, while using the other to clumsily take off his cold, hard chest plate and pauldrons.

Once he was only in his worn off thermal crew neck, he lied down as slowly as he could and let the kid nestle comfortably against his collarbone. Then he let his heavy eyelids fall over his dark eyes with a yawn that the vocoder of his helmet didn't quite catch.

To say he fainted soon after is an understatement.

* * *

Morning soon came and the Mandalorian had yet to wake up, light snores coming through the voice modulator at each rise and fall of his chest.

The same could not be said about the little, green creature securely cradled in his toned arms, now intent – triangular, floppy ear pressed against his chest – on listening the steady beat of his heart and his regular, rhythmic breath, aligning his usually fast pulse to the calmer one of his _buir_. He moved a little and readjusted himself with a content coo.

(Un)surprisingly, Mando didn't so much as stir and kept on sleeping, mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath – not quite Basic not quite Mando'a, but a oneiric mix of the two –, making him smile at hearing his dad's low, static voice.

But he was, after all, a kid, his attention span was quite reduced and, well, he was starting to get hungry. So, soon enough, he wriggled out of his father's grasp, before sitting up on his wide, kind of soft, chest.

The Child moved around a little more, but to no avail. He even jumped once; _nothing_.

The human adult under him was really out cold. Dropping frustratingly his big ears, he inclined his round head to one side, thinking on how to wake his papa up. He blinked thoughtfully, slowly, then... an idea!

He raised his three-clawed hands towards his covered face, narrowing his big, expressive eyes in concentration.

_And started tapping rather forcefully on the dark T visor of his helmet._

Once, twice, _six_ times, until Mando – who woke up as soon as his kid moved away from his embrace and just spent the following minutes observing him amusedly – sat up with a sigh, almost sending the toddler tumbling to the floor, but he immediately put a hand over his back and hugged him once more to his chest.

«What do you say, you little womp rat, time for breakfast?» he mused, getting up with a silent groan – he was getting too old for sleeping on the floor all night –, the Child circling his neck with his small arms for balance and cooing in merry agreement at his question. Mando then tapped his index finger against the tiny, button-like nose of the cute, alien creature and smiled at his loud, childish laugh.

His back hurt from his sleep stiff position, he no longer had the privacy he was so used to nor slept properly, but it didn't matter.

His _ad'ika_ was worth it.


End file.
